welcome to raleigh under the overpass @departmentstoreelk - Tumblr Blog

beautiful mother soap dispenser just gave birth to a baby foam in my hand

my notifications are once again devolving into a spirited debate about the ethics of actions that could potentially make someone uncomfortable, and at risk of sounding like someone about to get a lot of irate anons I think we're frankly giving way too to much moral weight to hypothetical discomfort

batmanisagatewaydrug

the thing about discomfort is that it's an extremely nebulous category that can be triggered by virtually anything and that's far too broad a category to have any inherent moral quality to it. like. my mom was mad uncomfortable when I stopped shaving. that didn't mean I was doing violence against my mom it just meant she needed to get over herself. many such cases it must be said.

batmanisagatewaydrug

there's not a single example I could give that's better than this

cloverchameleon

#classroom poster

talesfromthecrypts

You know how I know it’s the end of the world? Everything’s already been done. Every kind of music’s been tried. Every kind of government’s been tried, every fucking hairstyle, bubble gum flavors, you know, breakfast cereal. What are we going to do? How are we going to make another thousand years? I’m telling you, man, it’s over. We used it all up.

Strange Days (1995) dir. Kathryn Bigelow

spaceybread

butch-king-frankenstein

@terreurs :)

terreurs

ooh thank god

digitaldiscipline

Emily Wison, whose translation formed the basis for Nolan's version of The Odyssey, is brutal and unrelenting in her review of it.

As they say at the awards shows, I was humbled to learn that Christopher Nolan has read at least the first line of my...

pmamtraveller

"Cats on a Plane" by artist Kelly Pringle.

yugiohz

DID MY YAOI STICKERS ARRIVE

yugiohz

it was my bachelor’s degree 😑

heyniceworkasshole

sespursongles-deactivated201906

And speaking of Sophia Tolstoy, her diaries are just so depressing.

“I am to gratify his pleasure and nurse his child, I am a piece of household furniture, I am a woman. I try to suppress all human feelings. When the machine is working properly it heats the milk, knits a blanket, makes little requests and bustles about trying not to think […].“

She wrote this when she was 19, one year into her marriage to Leo and as she was pregnant with the first of his 13 children.

A few years later, when she was 25 or so:

“I am so often alone with my thoughts that the need to write in my diary comes quite naturally … Now I am well again and not pregnant—it terrifies me how often I have been in that condition. He said that for him being young meant “I can achieve anything”. For me […] reason tells me that there is nothing I either want or can do beyond nursing, eating, drinking, sleeping, and loving and caring for my husband and babies, all of which I know is happiness of a kind, but why do I feel so woeful all the time, and weep as I did yesterday? I am writing this now with the pleasantly exciting sense that nobody will ever read it, so I can be quite frank with myself […].“

During her 12th pregnancy she wrote about taking scalding baths and jumping from high pieces of furniture to try and miscarry. And at one point while reading her husband’s diary (which he told her to read) she found the sentence “There is no such thing as love, only the physical need for intercourse and the practical need for a life companion.” In her own diary she wrote “They ebb and flow like waves, these times when I realise how lonely I am and want only to cry…”

A few years before her husband’s death, she published a cycle of prose poems titled “Groans”, under the pseudonym “A Tired Woman”.

julienbakerfavormp3-deactivated

the most depressing quote from her diaries:

“I have served a genius for almost forty years. Hundreds of times I have felt my intellectual energy stir within me and all sorts of desires - a longing for education, a love of music and the arts… And time and again I have crushed and smothered these longings… Everyone asks, “But why should a worthless woman like you need an intellectual or artistic life?” To this question I can only reply: “I don’t know, but eternally suppressing it to serve a genius is a great misfortune.”